


this is how we roll... apparently?

by 30026401



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, basically finn being a little oblivious because it's cute af, humor I guess, random stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30026401/pseuds/30026401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn learning about life outside the First Order with a couple bumps along the way. and obviously poe's gonna be there cooing over him... but with style (or so he hopes?) because he's poe fucking dameron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. have a nice day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the sake of a vaguely linear timeline, this chapter is now the first one, and the original chapter "food" is now the second.

They were releasing him two days earlier than scheduled. Either Finn was a good healer or somebody else worse off needed his cot more than him. Finn didn’t care much either way, he was ready to leave.

Afterall, if this had been the First Order, he’d have been killed weeks ago, when his injury instantly rendered him useless to the Order. Useless stormtroopers were not kept alive.

His dark thoughts were halted by a medical droid that appeared at the side of his bed and held out the folded plain clothes to him and directed, “Please remove your current robe and dress yourself in these garments.”

Finn did as he was told. He was good at that.

A functional divider had been placed to give patients the illusion of privacy as they dressed but it hardly mattered to Finn, who took his time undressing and dressing regardless of who might see. He approached the process with caution as the movements required him to stretch and bend in ways he wasn’t fully comfortable with despite the hours of physical rehabilitation they’d required before releasing him.

The minutes of clumsy fumbling his way into clothes passed and the second Finn stepped out from the divider the droid appeared.

“Please hand over the robe.”

Finn did.

“Thank you,” it droned, “please continue to the checkout desk on your left and have a nice day.”

It rolled off, and Finn was left standing at the end of his bed with nothing but the flimsy clothes on his back and several dozen wounded resistance fighters lying in cots at his sides. Several cots down a nurse was bent over a cot.

He started walking to the left- without needing something to grab onto to steady himself.

He was finally healed.

He was better.

Somehow, he had survived. He had abandoned the First Order, stole Poe from beneath their very noses, chased after Rey, blown up a weapon that in turn blew up entire planets, and for a moment, fought Kylo Ren. He had done all this and survived. Poe had already called him hero. Poe was alive. Rey was alive. He was alive.

Finn reached the checkout desk. Behind it a man sat with his back turned to him, focused on his work.

The man still had not noticed him, so Finn took the moment to adjust his shirt. The hospital handed dozens of them out everyday, Finn would bet, but the Resistance had still taken the effort to make the clothes… decent. The material was soft beneath his fingers and the dull blue was a nice color.

The hospital smocks he’d been wearing before were all off-white. Before that, he’d worn Poe’s brown jacket and his uniform’s black under-armor. Before that, the stark black and white of a stormtroopers armor.

Finn couldn’t remember ever having worn blue before. The pale blue was a shock against his darker skin, but still softer than the white’s and blacks from before. He liked it.

The desk attendant turned around, took one look at what he wore and asked, “Name?”

 _Whats your name? FN- whaaa? If that's the name they gave you then I ain't using it. I'm calling you--_ "Finn," he said, Poe's words echoing in his ears:  _I_ _'m calling you Finn. That alright with you?_

The attendant began searching a data pad for his file.

“First name: Finn, Last name: unincluded, age: 23, admitted… three weeks ago.” The attendant looked up at him expectantly. “Sound familiar?”

“That’s me, I'm Finn."

The attendant promptly adjusted something on the data pad and then looked up again. “You are officially released from the medical wing, Finn. All expenses have been paid for by the resistance. You are free to go. If you need it, the requisitions office is down the hall, four doors down on the right. They can provide you with additional supplies.”

 _Continue to the checkout desk_ the droid had told him. Ok, Finn thought, done.

Finding the requisitions office was easy, and he left it with extra clothes, a warning that “the cost of replacements for any and all supplies will be deducted from your pay” (which was troubling since Finn had no pay), name tags he already wore around his neck which proudly read FINN, a key to his temporary room, and a notice stating that he would be informed of his official status in the Resistance at a later date.

Getting the temporary lodging was the only unpleasant part. The requisitions officer, a Twi’lek man, had bluntly told him that he’d chosen just the right time to require lodging because, as the officer had said, “due to the recent events, dozens of rooms have opened up.”

The reminder of all the dead had put a sour taste in Finn’s mouth.

It also rather spoiled the excitement of having his own room for the first time. He found the room easily, a small, nondescript place to sleep that was still nicer than the barracks of the First Order, even if the officer’s words still rung in his ears. 

Putting his meager belongings away, Finn collected himself and looked around the room one more time.

 _Continue to the checkout desk on your left and have a nice day,_ the droid had said. He’d already found the checkout desk, and a requisitions officer, and his room. Now all that was left was to _have a nice day._

It was still early in the day, and Finn was excited to finally be out of his hospital bed and on the move.

He headed towards the hangar, already imagining how surprise would look on Poe’s face. Finn had a good imagination. He started walking faster.


	2. food

Growing up in the First Order and being raised and trained as a faceless, easily replaced Stormtrooper had left Finn with a worldly knowledge that, in some categories, was fairly lacking, for things both big and small.

For example, the concept of what people considered decent food flew so far over his head that he once complimented the cafeteria food on lunch. Bad move. Poe, who’d been sitting across from him, had given him a quizzical look in the middle of his chewing while Snap and Jessika had shared a look between them. Then, Jessika, forcefully swallowing her food, shook her fork at him and demanded, “What? That supposed to be a joke, Finn?”

Perplexed, he tried explaining that he genuinely appreciated the food. In hindsight, he should have recognized the look on their face as disbelief, he should have caught onto the cues that told him _“nope, you fool, that was a blunder and you better backpedal fast.”_

Unfortunately for Finn, he still struggled with identifying those cues.

Jessika and Snap had quickly destroyed Finn’s defense of the cafeteria food. “It’s practically bantha shit,” Snap told him as he pushed said “bantha shit” around the plate with his fork. “I spend half my pay purchasing food off-base whenever I get the chance.”

Poe looked like he agreed, but tried explaining this a little gentler. “Maybe you have different tastes,” he suggested doubtfully, “but believe me when I say this stuff is sort of… mucky.”

Mucky? It was leaps and bounds better than the protein and vitamin filled rations the First Order provided. Day and after, meal after meal.

Finn realized then that pretty much any edible food would compare well to the First Order’s rations. But if this food was as bad as they said, then there must have been something better out, right?

When he voiced this thought to the table, he was bombarded with lists of foods he’d never heard of but “absolutely had to try,” and “couldn’t live without.” Eyes wide, he’d nodded along and listened closely when Poe voiced his own favorite foods. Of course, Poe, being Poe, caught on to his slightly overwhelmed state, and, nudging his foot beneath the table to catch his attention, assured Finn that on his next deployment out he would bring some food home for Finn to try.

“Just wait, buddy,” he assured with a quick grin, “when I come back I’m going to blow your mind.”

Finn didn’t doubt it for a second.

Beside him, Snap leaned over and whispered something to Jessika. All Finn heard was, "...not the only thing..." before Jessika snorted loudly and elbowed Snap, preventing Finn from catching the rest. Across from him, Poe looked between the two of them before making a face and, with what Finn thought an unnecessary amount of force, stabbed his fork into his food.

Weird.


	3. return of the poe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some new terminology is misunderstood by finn.

Finn didn’t spot them first, that claim belonged to a man somewhere to his right who pointed into the sky and yelled, “There!”

And there they were. They were breaking out of formation before Finn’s eyes as they prepared for landing. Easily visible among them was a single black T-70 X-Wing, slicing down through the clouds. Finn followed it’s shape until it flew out of of sight and into a landing.

Poe had only been gone fourteen days, but when he’d left he’d taken Finn’s two next closest friends Snap and Jessika with him. With Rey halfway across the galaxy in search of a lost Jedi, the fourteen day departure Finn was left basically friendless.

Pilots, Finn thought with an audible sigh. Maybe he should befriend the sanitation workers on base. They weren’t expected to disappear for days on end. Finn would know. But Finn had purposely chosen a pilot when he’d made his escape, and if the occasional multi-day mission was the price to pay for having chosen Poe, Finn figured it would be a worthwhile price to pay.

Around him, the other people waiting suddenly erupted into chatter as the bright orange flight suits appeared amongst the crowd of workers on the tarmac. The first few Finn saw he did not recognize, but apparently someone else did because a few people broke out from the designated area and warmly greeted arriving pilots.

Finn could see one pair embracing off to the side, a female pilot holding a mans face in her hands. The reunion was sweet to watch, and Finn unconsciously began paying more attention to the couples reunion than to searching the flight line for Poe.

More and more people broke off with grins on their faces to greet pilots, and Finn watched all of them.

Did these people realize how lucky they were? To have had the chance to form such strong connections and friendships?

It felt like years ago, not the weeks it had actually been, but Finn remembered returning from his fateful trip to the village of Jakku. The flight back to the star killer had been some of the most confusing moments of his life. Surrounded by the blank white masks of his comrades, Finn had felt lost. In those minutes the foundation of his entire like had been thrown up into the air and was floating away into the corners of space. He'd looked into the faces of the troopers he'd trained with and childhood, and all he'd seen were dead white and black masks that revealed none of the doubts Finn had been feeling.

Their arrival and disembarkment had been emotionless and routine. Nobody had been anxiously waiting for the storm troopers' return. Their return only mattered in the sense that the mission was completed.

Finn was still considering the contrast of it all when a familiar whirling sound reached his ears.

BB-8's white and orange colors rolled into his line of sight. And where BB-8 went, Poe followed.

The best pilot in the galaxy trailed a couple feet behind BB-8, and surprise spread across his face when he saw Finn. Finn waved to him, and Poe returned the gesture, approaching him quickly. BB-8 circled the two as they reached each other, beeping pleasantly.

“Finn, buddy!” Poe grabbed his shoulder, his fingers spreading down Finn’s shoulder blade. “What are you doing out here?”

Despite the overall pleased expression on Poe’s face, Finn noticed the slight confusion that pinched Poe’s brows together. “Waiting for you,” he explained. “The intercom announced an approaching squadron a few minutes ago.”

“Right,” Poe responded, but there was an uncertainty to his tone. The pilot glanced around at the other arrivals. Most were clearing the area, but there was another pair close to them kissing in a manner that made Finn a little uncomfortable. “Right” Poe repeated in slow tone, obviously thinking hard about something. “I think I’ve heard that intercom message before.”

Of course he had, Finn wanted to say. They played it every time a squadron returned from a mission. A bell would ring, followed by a dull voice, which Finn suspected was a recording, announcing something like:

_Squadron — has signaled it’s return. ETA fifteen minutes. All flight line personal must report to stations. Spouses and significant others of arriving party may await arrival in designated tarmac area. Repeat: all flight line personal must report to stations._

BB-8 let out a sequence of beeps at their feet and Poe glanced down sharply.

“I know, I know,” Poe answered quickly. BB-8 beeped again louder and Poe glared. “Yes, _I_ understand the terms.”

“What?” Finn asked curiously.

Poe looked up at him with wide eyes. Then, he cleared his throat and, as if just realizing it was still there, quickly snatched his hand off Finn’s shoulder. “Ah, nothing. BB-8 was just telling me something about _Black One._ Technical stuff, you know.”

BB-8 beeped a bunch more, but Poe ignored it.

“Oh.” Finn considered this. “It wasn’t damaged on the mission was it?”

Poe didn’t meet his eyes. “No, no damage.”

A joke about the “best pilot in the galaxy” letting his X-Wing be damaged was on the tip of Finn’s tongue when he realized Poe was acting odd. Had he done something? Did Poe not want Finn to wait for him? As soon as he thought this, the idea made sense. After all, it explained the strange looks that had been sent his way while everyone waited, but he’d figured that as more of the gawking at the ex-stormtrooper that seemed unfortunately popular. Apparently not.

Beginning to feel very foolish, it was now Finn’s turn to clear his throat. “Ok. Well… I guess, uh, I’ll go now.”

Poe’s eyes snapped back to his. “What? No, no. I haven’t even- “

“Maybe I shouldn’t…” Finn said the said time.

Both of them blinked at each other silently for a second. Then Poe shook his head and wrapped an arm firmly around Finn’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it,” Poe suddenly told him, probably recognizing the emotions conveyed on Finn’s face. It would be hard not to at this distance. Their faces were just inches apart. “Whatever you’re thinking, buddy, don’t even worry about it.”

“Yeah, ok,” Finn was too caught up in his relief to say more.

Poe’s arm squeezed gently as they walked off the flight line. “ ‘Sides, I haven’t even shown you what I brought you.”

“Brought me?” Finn echoed.

Poe’s chuckle could be felt all along their touching sides. “Forgotten already? Maybe I shouldn’t bother to share it with you after all.”

A brilliant smile lit up Finn’s face as he remembered. “Wait, the food?”

“Hell yeah, the food,” Poe laughed warmly.

Later, in the cafeteria as they sat at a table, all Poe’s “real food” spread across the table, Poe randomly brought up an earlier topic.

“Listen.” He said, his serious tone a break from their previous banter, “If people are looking at you weird, don’t even worry about it. For being on the tarmac waiting, I mean.”

Finn continued shoveling food into his mouth- he completely understood what the other’s had been talking about now. This stuff was so delicious it made him hate the First Order even more for keeping it from him. He never wanted to stop eating. 

Cheeks puffed out with food, Finn finally shook his head in response to Poe’s words. “I don’t,” he said between more bites. “Care that is,” he added a few bites later.

Poe’s eyebrows rose, but Finn could see approval in his eyes. “You really mean that.”

“Sure,” Finn shrugged, watching sheepishly as a few bits of food escaped his mouth. He swallowed more completely before opening his mouth again. “I like knowing what people are thinking, and their expressions help.”

“Even if they’re rude?”

“Still better than masks,” Finn revealed. “I like seeing everyone’s faces.”

There was a pause in the conversation and then:

“Some faces don’t belong hidden behind ugly masks anyway.”

“They aren’t very comfortable,” Finn agreed.

Poe’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Ah, Finn,” he sighed fondly. “I’m glad I met you.”

Too busy chewing to verbally answer, Finn pointed back at Poe with his free hand and nodded vigorously. He added a thumbs up to solidify the message.

Poe’s laugh rang out in the cafeteria.


	4. can't feel my face when I'm with you, bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wrestling. yes homo.

The gym wasn’t the most impressive Finn had ever seen because if the First Order took one thing seriously, it was the physical fitness of it’s soldiers. In comparison to the high tech, spacious gym of the First Order, the gym the Resistance offers was… what you’d expect from a small renegade faction with what Finn guesses are limited finances.

The mats that pad the floor are an off shade of blue and smell. Finn knew this because his face is only about a foot off them. And if Finn’s nose stung unpleasantly from a foot away, Finn can only imagine the strength of the stench Poe’s nose must be picking up, smushed into the mats as it was.

The small tinge of guilt he felt was overshadowed by his relief. Despite the medic’s assurances, he’d worried about his back. Seeing the other man beneath him assuaged those concerns.

The ones about his back.

“Yield?” He asked, still breathing hard from the respectable fight Poe had put up. In the end whatever training Poe had received hadn’t been able to keep up with that of what the First Order had instilled into Finn.

“Yeth, I yield,” Poe slurred, his words mangled by his position. Immediately after Finn removed his hand from the other man’s head, Poe lifted his head from the mat and twisted his neck around to scowl at Finn.

“I can’t feel my face,” he grumbled.

“Sorry.”

“And it’s hard to breath.”

It took Finn a second to understand what Poe meant before realizing he was still straddling the other man’s back, and consequently, squishing said back. He pulled himself off Poe, and offered him a hand. Poe rolled over with a grunt. He eyed Finn’s hand for a second before waving it off limply. “I think I’ll just lie here for a moment,” he breathed.

Finn sat down beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest and feeling his muscles slowly relaxing. It was quiet except for their shared labored breathing. He turned down towards Poe, examining the rise and fall of the other man’s chest, and his reddened face.

“The First Order sure doesn’t fuck around,” Poe said, staring up at the gym ceiling in exhaustion.

“Yeah.”

“I almost had you a couple times though.”

“Yeah, a couple times.” Not really. But Finn wasn’t about to say that aloud. No point in it when he’d already beaten the man. He didn’t want Poe to feel bad about loosing. It would take a lot more than one friendly defeat to make Finn think less of Poe. A lot more.

Poe exhaled out his nose sharply. “Yeah right. You kicked my ass and I know it.”

There was a pause where Finn considered disagreeing with the man for the sake of his ego. Instead he gave a small shrug and smiled sheepishly at him.

Poe pulled himself up so he was leaning back on his elbows. Even sprawled against a stinking practice mat Poe looked good, and Finn was having trouble looking away. His hair was in a complete state of disarray from their fight, bits of it sticking to the sweat of his forehead while other pieces stuck up haphazardly. In the corner of his mind, Fin wondered what his own hair might look like if he ever grew it out. Probably not as nice as Poe’s, but he was still curious.

“Next time will you teach me some of those moves?” Poe asked. “Might help to know them someday.”

Finn couldn't think of anybody ever asking him to teach them. None of his old troop had ever asked for his help with something like that, even if some of them probably should have. Even Slip, who probably needed the extra instruction most.

Finn raised a hand to his face, right where Slip’s bloody hand had smeared his mask. Why hadn’t Slip ever asked? Poe did easily.

“Finn?” Poe prompted.

Finn lowered his hand till his fingers skimmed the mat close to Poe’s own, blood free hand.

“I will.” He vowed. And then, afraid the man might take offense to a quasi order, he phrased his next words carefully. “But I think it might be wise if you…avoided stormtroopers on the ground until then. Maybe stuck to the cockpit…”

Poe grinned. “Yeah. I’d rather not tangle hand to hand with any other stormtroopers.”

“Me neither,” he agreed, relieved. His old training days came back to him in flashes. He and all the other stormtroopers had been taught to kill, with or without their blasters. If Poe was anything to go by, the Resistance weren’t taught the same level of hand to hand combat.

“Hey hey hey!” A new voice suddenly boomed across the gym. “What’s got you two out of breath and flushed?”

Poe let his head fall back, exposing the whole length of his neck to Finn, and groaned. “Damnit,” he muttered.

Finn turned towards the newcomer, which turned out to be newcomers. A handful of young men and women, all matching in the day wear the base handed out for off-duty use, had entered the gym and were approaching Finn and Poe’s mat.

A couple of them greeted Poe with formal greetings of “good afternoon, commander,” but the majority of them used less formal greetings along the lines of, “what’s shaking, man?” The casualness of it all stunned Finn. None of them even saluted! True, he’d never really seen Poe interact with those he worked with. But he’d assumed that with Poe’s rank they’d give him some modicum of respect.

His stunned expression must have been rather eye-catching because a few of them turned toward him.

“Hey, handsome.” The original speaker, an average looking male Twi’lek, addressed Finn. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “Uh…”

“Finn, this is Cor and the rest of Blue Squadron.” Poe answered for him, pulling himself to his feet. He offered Finn a hand, which he grabbed quickly. When Finn reached his feet, Poe’s hand moved from his hand to his shoulder. The weight of it was reassuring. “Everybody, this is my friend Finn. And to answer your question, Finn was showing me some close-combat moves.”

Finn didn’t understand why Cor smirked at Poe’s answer, but it looked like Poe did, if the long sigh he gave was any sign.

“You know a lot about hand to hand combat?” It’s a different pilot who asks, and Finn is grateful for the straightforward question.

“I received a lot of training.” It would probably be better to not mention where.

“Finn could show all of us a thing or two,” Poe boasted. “He knows his stuff.”

Finn tried not too preen under Poe’s praise, but it was difficult not too when the crowd, having heard Poe, suddenly seemed much more interested in him. Drawing so much attention may not have been the best idea however, because the moment of fame was ruined when a new pilot spoke up. “Hey wait,” she said. “He’s that stormtrooper.”

And just like Coruscant, Finn’s popularity was up in flames. So much for keeping that a secret. Around him the crowd took a collect step back, and there was an almost comical “oooooh,” from everyone.

“You serious?”

“Damn!”

And then over the eruption of murmuring, Finn heard someone say, “Poe told us all about you!”

At his side, Poe made a strange noise. “I just told them about how we met,” Poe explained to him, embarrassed. “The escape and everything.”

Finn nodded cooly. Or he tried to. The attempt was ruined as he heard himself stutter, “right. Yeah, uh, that’s me. The stormtrooper- defected stormtrooper- from the escape.”

The group of pilots didn’t seem to know what to make of this information. Finn expected none of them had ever tried conversing with a stormtrooper. Not that he was one. Anymore at least. Sometimes, in his thoughts, he forgot to stop referring to himself as such. At times it felt almost silly calling himself Finn- not that he’d ever tell Poe that. He had just seen himself as FN- 2187 the Stormtrooper for so long.

Finn was a dream he was trying to make real.

He turned nervously toward Poe, but the other man wasn’t looking towards him. Instead the pilot was facing the crowd of Blue Squadron, arms crossed. Finn hadn’t felt him remove his hand.

“If anyone has anything to say, say it now,” Poe dared them. “Finn has earned all of my respect.”

In a few tense seconds, the crowd of pilots dispersed until only a few hovered nearby, still curious. Of the remaning Cor stepped forward.

“If he’s got your respect, Commander, he’s got mine,” the Twi’lek declared. Then he winked. Finn wasn’t sure who it was aimed to, him or Poe, and he wasn’t sure which he would prefer.

Another of the remaining pilots, a woman, spoke up. “So how’d you end up with the Resistance?”

It had involved an emotionally intense identity crisis, but Finn wasn’t about to spew his guts to a bunch of pilots he’d only just met. “I didn’t like being a stormtrooper, and then seeing Poe get taken captive… it solidified my decision.” Poe gave a quick, odd laugh and Finn look at him curiously. When Poe just shook his head dismissively, he continued. “Then I found Rey…”

_…kind of a big deal around base, ok?…_

“… one thing led to another…”

_…Poe’s face on the tarmac…you’re alive! … keep it, it suits you…_

“…and here I am.”

_… you’re a good man, Finn._

“Hold on. You rescued Poe?” A pilot arched a brow at her commander. “This is the guy, Poe?”

Poe turned red. “I don’t recall mentioning this to you.”

“Jessika told me about it,” the pilot responded slyly. “After you told her about it.”

“Poe?” Finn questioned.

“It’s like a fairy tail, the female pilot trailed suggestively, “with it’s very own knight-”

“Ok.” Poe interrupted, grabbing Finn by the arm. “Finn and I are leaving. Blue Squad, I’ll see you at 0600. And concerning Finn’s status, by all accounts he outranks all of you. Treat his as you would me. Actually- better. And keep the gossiping to a minimum about this. It’s in regulation, and that’s an order from your commander.”

Finn nodded goodbye to them and let Poe drag him away. He’d never seen the professional side of Poe before. It suited him. Command came naturally to him, Finn thought. He might have made a good stormtrooper…

Finn regarded the side of Poe’s face. The bounce of his hair tucked behind his ears, the pleasant curl on his lips, the warm creases at the corners of his eyes…No. Poe was too good to be a stormtrooper. But that didn’t stop Finn from imagining his past with Poe in it at his side. What it might have been if they’d been troopers together.

Poe would still have been a pilot. But he’d never seen obedience in Poe, only defiance, loyalty, and bravery and greatness-

If Poe had been a trooper Finn might never have defected.


	5. cuddling. FN-2187 in shining armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before you read this, pretend poe and finn are already in an established relationship. consider this a minific unrelated to the first four chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know its been a while since i updated, and this short little thing doesn't really fit in with the theme of "poe and finn love each other but aren't together yet." this little snibbit it more "poe and finn love each other and are cuddling" its all i got right now.

“Remember when we first met?”

“Rather hard to forget.”

“Imagine if you’d named me something other than Finn.”

Poe rubbed his chin in mock thought. “Hmmm,” he considered, “I suppose I could’ve gone with Fred. But you don’t look like a Fred, I think you’re more of a Ferdinand.”

“Yeah?”

“Or maybe…F… Far…? Fel..? Huh,” Poe hummed. “F names are hard. You’re lucky Finn was the name that came to mind. Could have been a lot worse.” Poe ran his hands up Finn’s sides, locking them behind the other man’s neck lovingly. “You could have been a Fabio.” 

Finn loomed closer, his chest meeting the warmth of Poe’s as they touched. His lips brushed against Poe’s nose as he spoke, “Poe Dameron,” he murmured, “you can call me anything you want…”

Poe’s face broke into a grin, and he leaned forward-

Finn pulled back from Poe’s, suddenly serious. Confused, Poe started to frown, but then he caught sight of the mischievous twinkle in Finns eyes. The mock serious look on Finn’s face faded and was replace with a small smirk as he added, “…but only if I get to choose a name for you too.”

Poe’s head fell back onto the bed, and he blew a few black curls from off his forehead as he squinted at Finn suspiciously. “That’s a dangerous request… recruit.”

Finn arched a brow. “I think it’s only fair, commander. How many people get to name their boyfriends?” 

Poe rolled his eyes. “You weren’t my boyfriend at the time. Doesn’t count.”

“…Hmmm, but how can I be certain you weren’t already scheming of ways to get me? FN- 2187 was hot stuff, you know.”

Poe gave Finn an unimpressed look, but the scathing gaze was tempered by the soft smile curling on his lips.

“In fact, Jessika told me something the other day that makes me think you had a thing for me right away,” Finn goads.

“Well you shouldn’t listen to Jessika.”

“Something about a trooper in shining armor…”

Poe groaned. 

“…and a Dameron in distress…”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing finn and poe, let me know how I do!


End file.
